按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
sleep； the distress of a man to whom the fuss of moving and the
breaking up of all his habits was like the end of the world； came upon
him； and he racked his brains to imagine how he could ever find such a
good place for his book…case as the gallery in the old maid's house。
Fancying he saw his books scattered about； his furniture defaced； his
regular life turned topsy…turvy； he asked himself for the thousandth
time why the first year spent in Mademoiselle Gamard's house had been
so sweet； the second so cruel。 His troubles were a pit in which his
reason floundered。 The canonry seemed to him small compensation for so
much misery； and he compared his life to a stocking in which a single
dropped stitch resulted in destroying the whole fabric。 Mademoiselle
Salomon remained to him。 But； alas； in losing his old illusions the
poor priest dared not trust in any later friendship。
In the 〃citta dolente〃 of spinsterhood we often meet； especially in
France； with women whose lives are a sacrifice nobly and daily offered
to noble sentiments。 Some remain proudly faithful to a heart which
death tore from them； martyrs of love； they learn the secrets of
womanhood only though their souls。 Others obey some family pride
（which in our days； and to our shame； decreases steadily）； these
devote themselves to the welfare of a brother； or to orphan nephews；
they are mothers while remaining virgins。 Such old maids attain to the
highest heroism of their sex by consecrating all feminine feelings to
the help of sorrow。 They idealize womanhood by renouncing the rewards
of woman's destiny； accepting its pains。 They live surrounded by the
splendour of their devotion； and men respectfully bow the head before
their faded features。 Mademoiselle de Sombreuil was neither wife nor
maid； she was and ever will be a living poem。 Mademoiselle Salomon de
Villenoix belonged to the race of these heroic beings。 Her devotion
was religiously sublime； inasmuch as it won her no glory after being；
for years； a daily agony。 Beautiful and young； she loved and was
beloved； her lover lost his reason。 For five years she gave herself；
with love's devotion； to the mere mechanical well…being of that
unhappy man； whose madness she so penetrated that she never believed
him mad。 She was simple in manner； frank in speech； and her pallid
face was not lacking in strength and character； though its features
were regular。 She never spoke of the events of her life。 But at times
a sudden quiver passed over her as she listened to the story of some
sad or dreadful incident； thus betraying the emotions that great
sufferings had developed within her。 She had come to live at Tours
after losing the companion of her life； but she was not appreciated
there at her true value and was thought to be merely an amiable woman。
She did much good； and attached herself； by preference； to feeble
beings。 For that reason the poor vicar had naturally inspired her with
a deep interest。
Mademoiselle de Villenoix； who returned to Tours the next morning；
took Birotteau with her and set him down on the quay of the cathedral
leaving him to make his own way to the Cloister； where he was bent on
going； to save at least the canonry and to superintend the removal of
his furniture。 He rang； not without violent palpitations of the heart；
at the door of the house whither； for fourteen years； he had come
daily； and where he had lived blissfully； and from which he was now
exiled forever； after dreaming that he should die there in peace like
his friend Chapeloud。 Marianne was surprised at the vicar's visit。 He
told her that he had come to see the Abbe Troubert； and turned towards
the ground…floor apartment where the canon lived； but Marianne called
to him：
〃Not there； monsieur le vicaire； the Abbe Troubert is in your old
apartment。〃
These words gave the vicar a frightful shock。 He was forced to
comprehend both Troubert's character and the depths of the revenge so
slowly brought about when he found the canon settled in Chapeloud's
library； seated in Chapeloud's handsome armchair； sleeping； no doubt；
in Chapeloud's bed； and disinheriting at last the friend of Chapeloud；
the man who； for so many years； had confined him to Mademoiselle
Gamard's house； by preventing his advancement in the church； and
closing the best salons in Tours against him。 By what magic wand had
the present transformation taken place？ Surely these things belonged
to Birotteau？ And yet； observing the sardonic air with which Troubert
glanced at that bookcase； the poor abbe knew that the future vicar…
general felt certain of possessing the spoils of those he had so
bitterly hated；Chapeloud as an enemy； and Birotteau； in and through
whom Chapeloud still thwarted him。 Ideas rose in the heart of the poor
man at the sight； and plunged him into a sort of vision。 He stood
motionless； as though fascinated by Troubert's eyes which fixed
themselves upon him。
〃I do not suppose； monsieur；〃 said Birotteau at last； 〃that you intend
to deprive me of the things that belong to me。 Mademoiselle may have
been impatient to give you better lodgings； but she ought to have been
sufficiently just to give me time to pack my books and remove my
furniture。〃
〃Monsieur；〃 said the Abbe Troubert； coldly； not permitting any sign of
emotion to appear on his face； 〃Mademoiselle Gamard told me yesterday
of your departure； the cause of which is still unknown to me。 If she
installed me here at once； it was from necessity。 The Abbe Poirel has
taken my apartment。 I do not know if the furniture and things that are
in these rooms belong to you or to Mademoiselle； but if they are
yours； you know her scrupulous honesty； the sanctity of her life is
the guarantee of her rectitude。 As for me； you are well aware of my
simple modes of living。 I have slept for fifteen years in a bare room
without complaining of the dampness；which； eventually will have
caused my death。 Nevertheless； if you wish to return to this apartment
I will cede it to you willingly。〃
After hearing these terrible words； Birotteau forgot the canonry and
ran downstairs as quickly as a young man to find Mademoiselle Gamard。
He met her at the foot of the staircase； on the broad； tiled landing
which united the two wings of the house。
〃Mademoiselle；〃 he said； bowing to her without paying any attention to
the bitter and derisive smile that was on her lips； nor to the
extraordinary flame in her eyes which made them lucent as a tiger's；
〃I cannot understand how it is that you have not waited until I
removed my furniture before〃
〃What！〃 she said； interrupting him； 〃is it possible that your things
have not been left at Madame de Listomere's？〃
〃But my furniture？〃
〃Haven't you read your deed？〃 said the old maid； in a tone which would
have to be rendered in music before the shades of meaning that hatred
is able to put into the accent of every word could be fully shown。
Mademoiselle Gamard seemed to ri